


you can build me up, you can tear me down (you can try but I'm unbreakable)

by the9muses



Category: Black Widow (Movie 2020), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Aromantic Natasha Romanov, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Gen, God poor Natasha, I didn't read the comics just keep that in mind, I guess it could be interpreted differently, I mean, I'm bored, I'm in quarantine, Instead she is human being with serious issues, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Suicide, Why Did I Write This?, have some incoherent sadness, idk let's just call it a character study, kind of?, that's how I wrote it, the aro part is heavily implied, to save the world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:55:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27880357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the9muses/pseuds/the9muses
Summary: Natasha Romanoff is a girl whose heart has been shattered and pieced together time and time again, a girl forged in blood and terror and murder.She does not remember all the people who have died by her hands.It is too many to count.She is a girl with blood on her hands.She knows this.She does not care.(she is not supposed to care)(Or, what could I guess be a Natasha Romanoff character study)
Relationships: Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov
Comments: 11
Kudos: 13





	you can build me up, you can tear me down (you can try but I'm unbreakable)

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, so I'm in quarantine and I ended up writing this.  
> Enjoy my barely coherent rambling!

An old, weathered hand brushes across the polished lid of the piano. 

Opening the lid, the woman places her fingers on the keys, and, with a smile on her face, begins to play.

And the girls in front of her begin to dance.

_One,_

_two,_

_three,_

_four,_

_and_

_one,_

_two,_

_three_

_four._

There is a woman hanging off the edge of a cliff, the grip of a man’s hand the only thing still tethering her to life. 

She does not _want_ to die.

But she is not scared to. 

Because the world will go on.

With or without her.

The world will go on.

_One,_

_two,_

_three,_

_four,_

_and_

_one,_

_two,_

_three_

_four._

There is a young girl holding a gun in her hands. 

The gun is cold.

And hard.

And metal.

And there is a man in front of her.

And she must not care.

When she pulls the trigger

there will be a man dead.

And it will be her fault.

And she must not care.

To care is a weakness,

to love doubly so.

And this man means nothing to her.

And she has orders.

And so she pulls the trigger.

_Bam_

And just like that,

a killer has taken her first victim 

_One,_

_two,_

_three,_

_four,_

_and_

_one,_

_two,_

_three_

_four._

There is a girl whose heart has been shattered and pieced together time and time again, a girl forged in blood and terror and murder. 

She does not remember all the people who have died by her hands.

It is too many to count.

She is a girl with blood on her hands. 

She knows this. 

She does not care.

(She is not supposed to care.

And so she doesn’t.)

But late at night, she hears the rhythm in her head, steadily louder and louder, and she thinks that maybe if she could, she would care. 

_One,_

_two,_

_three,_

_four,_

_and_

_one,_

_two,_

_three_

_four._

There is a woman who never wanted children.

But now?

Now she will never have them. 

And she is not sure why she cares.

To love is a weakness.

But late at night, she hears the laughter of the children that will never be. 

The echoes of a life she’ll never have. 

She does not want that life.

She will never have that life. 

So then why does she think about what could have been?

_One,_

_two,_

_three,_

_four,_

_and_

_one,_

_two,_

_three_

_four._

There is a man with arrows who thinks he can kill the Black Widow. 

He’s mistaken. 

Many people have thought they could kill the Black Widow.

They were all mistaken.

They are all dead.

But this man is different.

And she does not know why.

_One,_

_two,_

_three,_

_four,_

_and_

_one,_

_two,_

_three_

_four._

There is a man named Clint Barton, and there is a woman called Natalia. 

Clint has a job to do.

Natalia has a job to do.

Only one can finish the job.

Neither one does.

Because Natalia is teetering at the edge, and Clint pulls her back from it.

Because Clint takes one look at her and _sees_ her. 

Because she is broken.

Because Clint knows that.

She is not in love.

Love is weakness, love is a game that children play. 

But Clint makes her want to love. 

(she does love him. He is her best friend, her brother. But she cannot love him the way she wants to. She wants to be able to love like that. She can’t, and she doesn’t know why.)

_One,_

_two,_

_three,_

_four,_

_and_

_one,_

_two,_

_three_

_four._

There is a man named Nick Fury. 

He offers her a job.

She takes it.

Her past no longer matters.

It is as simple as that. 

(she wishes it was as simple as that)

_One,_

_two,_

_three,_

_four,_

_and_

_one,_

_two,_

_three_

_four._

There is a woman who does not sleep.

Every time she tries she wakes up drenched in sweat, crying out in terror because _they will come for her, she cannot stop them, she is powerless, they will come for her._

They do not come for her. 

(she never stops thinking they will)

_One,_

_two,_

_three,_

_four,_

_and_

_one,_

_two,_

_three_

_four._

She still dances. 

It helps to drown out the noise in her head.

When she is dancing

There is only the music and the rhythm:

_One,_

_two,_

_three,_

_four,_

_and_

_one,_

_two,_

_three_

_four._

There is a man named Nick Fury, and he forms a team.

Natasha isn’t sure about this team.

She joins anyway.

Now there is a way to wipe the red from her ledger. 

(she hopes. She’s still not sure she can be redeemed)

_One,_

_two,_

_three,_

_four,_

_and_

_one,_

_two,_

_three_

_four._

There is a woman who does not know who she is. 

She has had many names.

Only three are important

Natalia Alianovna Romanova 

(it’s the first name she ever had. No one has called her Natalia in a long time. For that, she is glad)

The Black Widow

(she does not know if she likes this name. To so many people it means safety. To her, it means blood splatters and screams, tears and chaos. Death.) 

Natasha Romanoff 

(she thinks she likes this name) 

_One,_

_two,_

_three,_

_four,_

_and_

_one,_

_two,_

_three_

_four._

There is a woman forced to let her world crumble to pieces beneath her. 

She didn’t see Hydra until it was too late.

She will always blame herself for that.

(anyone who says otherwise is lying. She is the Black Widow. She is the best of the best, she should have seen it, it is her fault. _Her fault._ )

_One,_

_two,_

_three,_

_four,_

_and_

_one,_

_two,_

_three_

_four._

She is not worthy.

She knows this. 

She does not need a hammer to tell her that.

The others try, and she watches them fail. 

If Clint couldn’t lift it, she will not be able to. 

_One,_

_two,_

_three,_

_four,_

_and_

_one,_

_two,_

_three_

_four._

There is a man named Bruce Banner.

If she could, Natasha would love him. 

She cannot love him the right way.

So she pretends. 

He believes her.

She’s always been good at pretending. 

When he leaves, her sadness is tinged with relief. It shouldn’t be. She knows it shouldn’t be. 

But now she can’t hurt him.

(it’s absurd, the idea of this tiny woman being able to hurt the Hulk. It would be easier if he didn’t love her)

_One,_

_two,_

_three,_

_four,_

_and_

_one,_

_two,_

_three_

_four._

There is a woman who doesn’t know who she’s fighting for.

Her world has been split evenly, two pieces of a whole.

She does not want to fight these people.

They are her family. 

And yet she still does. 

She will never understand why.

(she will never stop regretting it) 

_One,_

_two,_

_three,_

_four,_

_and_

_one,_

_two,_

_three_

_four._

There is a woman.

There is a fight. 

There is blood.

There is dust.

There is grief.

There is a cacophony of voices in her head. 

_Your fault._

_Your fault._

_Your fault._

(she listens, and she knows it’s true) 

_One,_

_two,_

_three,_

_four,_

_and_

_one,_

_two,_

_three_

_four._

There is a woman, and there is a chance. 

She takes it.

_One,_

_two,_

_three,_

_four,_

_and_

_one,_

_two,_

_three_

_four._

There is a woman, hanging onto a cliff, barely hanging onto life.

Begging to be let go.

It is the only way.

She will wipe away the red that has blurred her vision and weighed her down for so long. 

All she has to do is let go. 

She does. 

She falls gracefully. 

(she is beautiful) 

The air rushes past her face.

(it is cold) 

She hits the ground.

(the music stops) 

**Author's Note:**

> Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated!


End file.
